


Ebrius--Last Dark Cycle

by ChrysCare, Searece



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Other, Possible NonCon, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:05:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrysCare/pseuds/ChrysCare, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searece/pseuds/Searece
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The black and white of the Enforcer world will clash with vibrant colors when Prowl meets a certain party goer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ebrius--Last Dark Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> Searece: This started as me wanting to practice my drunk Jazz. I wrote him, and I'm not sure how well I did. Chryscare wrote Prowl and Barricade (and the summary). There is a scene of explicit consensual interfacing, but you can see it a mile away before there's any actual action. I wrote that all myself, since Chryscare has trouble with those scenes and doesn't write them. Feel free to skip it, I guess.

            The music wasn't too loud, nor were the lights too flashy, at least in his humble opinion as he bobbed his helm to the beat and grinned at his friends who were on the dance floor. The night was young, as the saying went, and already they were overcharged. Wanting to remember the night, he had only had a half cube of highgrade so far, not enough to get overcharged. He jerked in surprise when he felt a touch on his shoulder. Huh, maybe the music was louder than he thought if he hadn't heard anyone approach him.

            "Hey, Jazz!"

            The mech flinched from his place on a rather comfortable chair, the shout being louder than necessary, but he responded anyway as he looked up, "Yeah?"

            "Have you seen our--our guards?" giggled the other dancer, the overly happy one when overcharged.

            Jazz shook his helm, opening his mouth to say something when he was suddenly dragged to the dance floor. Deciding he didn't want to dance, he leaned his weight back and sat back down in the chair.

            "You're no fun," pouted the other while a couple more mecha came over to their spot.

            Nodding in agreement to appease his friend, Jazz looked up at the others, "Yes?"

            "That black and white guard over there," a femme waved to the door of the room, to which Jazz glanced, "You should go seduce him!" She leaned into his lap with a grin.

            Jazz stared at the femme, both for her bluntness and the idea. "What? Why?"

            "Come on," pleaded a singer against his audios, letting Jazz know that he would have to give into their demands or be pestered for the rest of the night.

            Attempting to be discreet, Jazz looked behind him at the enforcer they'd pointed out. He had to admit that the other was handsome, from what he could see through the flashing lights. "Fine." When he drooped, they all cheered at getting him to bend to their will so easily.

            "Drink this. It'll help," suggested a dancer with a shove of a small cube into Jazz's servo. Jazz gave the little cube a doubtful look before shrugging and choking it down. Before he could escape to seduce the guard, his friends caged him in and started talking about the two guards, trying to give him advice about them.

* * *

 

            He felt the other guard's field against his, the guard assigned the same post as him to watch the drunken mechs as they partied to make sure they didn't somehow offline themselves. The other's field turned from seriousness to a hint of amusement as they watch the dancing mechs. All he saw in the mechs were drunken mechs oblivious to the consequences of their actions. Soon the amusement turned into something else, something distracting, and Prowl glanced up at the black and purple guard.

            "What is so amusing, Barricade?" Prowl frowned and turned his attention back to the group of mechs shouting to the music and jumping.

            "That small mech over there, his friends keep looking our way." Barricade tilted his helm to the group. Prowl looked over at the mechs, frown deepening as the mechs point and talk to one another.

            "They keep looking at you," Barricade smiled.

            "They are drunk on high-grade. What gives you the idea they are staring at me?" Prowl shook his helm, rolling his optics at his partner's antics.

            "You aren't bad to look at." Barricade smirked, servo coming to rest on his lower back. Prowl glanced over at the other Enforcer, a glare in his gold optics.

            "We are on duty." Prowl moved a step away from his partner. "Besides, why do you care if they are looking at me or not? Shouldn't you not want them to?"

            Barricade shrugged as Prowl glanced back to the group Barricade seemed so entertained by. Prowl noticed the other mechs and femmes moving a small dark blue mech with lavender highlights shining under the flashing lights.

            Barricade laughed quietly. "Hey, maybe they're coming over here."

            "Don't get your hopes up, 'Cade, they may just want to see how much scrap we can take before we arrest them," Prowl shook his helm as the mechs weaved in and out of the dancers on the floor.

            "One can hope, can't he?" Barricade elbowed the black and white Praxian before resuming his guard duties.

* * *

 

            He knew his friends were trying to move him somewhere, but he was getting distracted by the seductive beat pounding into his audios and couldn't resist the urge to dance, though he knew he was somewhat sloppy currently.

            "Jazz!" someone whinily shouted his name and pulled on his servo, unbalancing him and forcing him to move with them lest he end up on the floor.

            Alright, he was coming; couldn't they hold on? He followed after the tugging on his servo as he glanced around. "What?" he asked his friend, his voice somewhat slurred. His friend apparently didn't hear him because the other didn't respond except to giggle.

            With skill belying how overcharged he was, Jazz weaved between the others on the floor and abruptly found himself out of the throng. The sudden lack of mecha startled him enough that a shove from a few of his friends, all giggling uncharacteristically, sent him tumbling to the side and towards the guards he vaguely remembered them telling him about.

            "Wah!" he squeaked as he noticed a door suddenly looming in front of him with an enforcer on either side of it, but as his coordination had been shot by the highgrade he'd ingested earlier, he crashed into the stupid door before he could change direction. "Ow," he whined, rubbing at his faceplates as he leaned against the door.

            Both guards glanced down at the blue mech crumpled on the floor between them. "Ya alright there, kid?" the black and purple guard asked, pede lifting the mech up a little.

            "Fine," the would-be dancer eventually responded, before protesting, "'M not a kid!" Pouting, the disorientated mech looked up with an offended silver visor at the black and purple guard.

            "Then obviously you are too drunk to function properly," Prowl said, glancing down at the mech; he noticed the mech's "friends" didn't stick around after he clattered to the floor. "I will alert the dark cycle's transportation to escort you home."

            The words took a few moments to penetrate the overcharged mech's processor. When they did, he positively whined like a puppy, "Nooo!" With an even bigger pout, Jazz leaned towards the black and white enforcer and wrapped his arms around the other's legs, burying his face into their sides. "'M jus' fine," he mumbled into the warm metal.

            "Clearly you are not fine," Prowl frowned at the drunken mech and stepped out of his grip, only for the slightly smaller mech to wobbly stand and follow after him.

            "Maybe you should make sure I'm fine?" grinned Jazz as he tilted his helm, laying a servo on the wall to steady himself. He ran his gaze over Prowl admiringly and smirked.

            "My post is here. You are not my responsibility once you leave. The transport is nearly here," Prowl frowned down at the mech, at the slight stench of the high-grade coming from him.

            "But I'm still your responsibility," he stumbled over the word, "while I'm here, ain't I?" The mech pouted and whimpered, looking at Prowl with a pleading visor. Sincehe had no intentions of leaving before he was ready, he disregarded the other's last statement. Stepping forward, he quickly wrapped his arms around the guard's shoulders to lean against him. He didn't get very far in his attachment to the black and white mech.

            His face pinched up a bit and he moved a servo over his mouth before he suddenly emptied the contents of his tank all over the black and white guard. Prowl grimaced and jerked back to avoid the half processed Energon but it was already too late. He shivered as his sensors picked up it sliding down his frame. Barricade burst out laughing, bending over in the process and nearly falling on the ground.

            "Perhaps you should go home to clean yourself up before resuming?" Barricade said after gaining control before laughing a bit more.

            "Can you handle things here or do you need me to stay until another Enforcer takes over?" Prowl asked as he tried to hold up the mech who started trying to blow bubbles from the excess Energon in his mouth.

            "Go on ahead." Barricade smiled and turned back to watch the partying mechs. Prowl nodded and started to carry the mech to the door, hoping the transport arrived. He frowned when he didn't see the transport.  

            "I can't leave you here on the street." Prowl frowned and half carried and half dragged the drunken mech to the Enforcer transport. "I might as well clean you up too before sending you to your home."

            "Don' wanna go 'ome," mumbled the mech but didn't elaborate why. Randomly, he looked up and cooed in delight, as if admiring the buildings above him, making Prowl's job even more difficult. "Where we goin'?"

            "I am taking you to my home to clean up and find out where you live to take you back home, but if you want to tell me where _you_ live I can escort you there."

            "Please, no!" immediately protested the mech, perhaps a bit too loudly, as he shook his helm. With a wobbling lower lip, he looked at Prowl pleadingly and tried to press himself closer.

            "Want to tell me why you are obviously afraid to go home?" Prowl asked, recovering from the loudness of the mech's reply.

            "Nope!" chirped Jazz as he looked around, spotting Prowl's sensory panels behind him and curiously watching them. He really didn't want to go home, and he wouldn't tell the Praxian why. He had enough sense for that, at least.

            The transport came to a stop in front of a small house. As he hauled the smaller mech to the door, Prowl wirelessly unlocked it and carried him in. He turned on the light to illuminate the quaint main room, with a couch and holo-screen. He carried the mech through the berthroom and into the attached washracks before setting him on the floor to start the solvent. He started washing the smaller mech so that the purged energon didn't transfer onto him.

            At the sound of the solvent, the mech squealed and tried to scramble away. When it became evident that Prowl wouldn't turn the cleansing liquid off, Jazz curled up on the floor, accidentally hitting his helm on the wall in the process but remaining surprisingly undamaged. Covering his helm, he peeked up at Prowl through his arms.

            Prowl gently picked the curled up mech and brought him under the solvent. Immediately the purged Energon began to run off their frames. A grunt of surprise came from the dark, curled mech.

            Prowl shook his helm at the mech before taking a rag out of his subspace and started cleaning the other's frame from dried Energon. He noticed how the mech's lavender highlights seem to glow in the light. All his attention went to making sure the mech was clean. He didn't notice when the mech suddenly leaned against him further and pressed his lips to Prowl's cheek.

            "You're cute~" purred the mech as he sloppily nuzzled the Praxian, squirming in the other's lap. He kissed Prowl again, aiming for his lips that time.

            Prowl stiffened at the other's lips against his, bright optics stared straight ahead before he moved his helm back and glanced down at the cuddly drunk mech. He grabbed the mech's chin and moved the other's helm to face away from him. Maybe that would deter the mech from doing something he would regret when he sobered.

            The mech whined at the action and dropped his helm back on the guard's shoulder, turning to nuzzle into the Praxian's neck and press more kisses there. "Cutie~" cooed Jazz as his servo wandered down around the other's waist without him realizing just what he was doing. His glossa slithered out of his mouth and he lapped at the other's neck.

            Prowl froze as he felt the other's glossa on his neck. The slightly smaller mech arched against him and licked more, sucking softly at the sensitive cables there. Prowl quieted his moan at the mech's actions. It wouldn't do to let the mech seduce him while he was drunk.

            "Stop that," Prowl frowned and used one servo to hold the mech's chin forward and continues to wash the mech.

            "Why~?" the mech softly whimpered, squirming in Prowl's hold as he spread his legs, curling his pedes towards himself slightly. His servo ran down the guard's thigh, squeezing it. Prowl moaned, helm falling back before he snapped out of the haze of pleasure.

            Prowl frowned. "You are not in your right processor."

            "Know when I want som'thin' though." Jazz pouted as he clumsily lifted his other servo to grab Prowl's, the one keeping his face still. "C'mon."

            "You cannot know what you want when the high-grade is clouding your judgment." Prowl moved away from the other mech to clean himself off.

            "'M jus' even more impulsive," corrected Jazz as turned onto his belly, watching the other with fascination. The floor was slick under him as he propped his knees under him, resulted in his aft high in the air. "C'mon, cutie-pie~!" He wiggled his aft and whined, trying to get the other's attention.

            "Are you trying to proposition an officer?"

            "Uh-huh," Jazz smirks, "dun' see why tha's bad, tho'." He slid his servo across the floor to hold the other's pede.

            "Of course you don't; high-grade is messing with your processor." Prowl shook his helm.

            "Ain't done a crime," the smaller mech frowned up at Prowl, "dun' see an issue." He lifted himself up in his servos and attempted to crawl towards Prowl.

            "I will find out where you live. You're going to fall into recharge within a joor," Prowl shook his helm again.

            "You just wanna have your way with me at my house, eh, cutie?" slurred Jazz as he wiggles his aft again, "I wouldn' mind."

            "I would," Prowl said, glaring at the mech on the floor.

            Jazz frowned at his failed seduction attempts. "No highgrade, would ya 'ave me?" The guard probably couldn't understand what he was asking, and he curled up on the floor facing away from the mech.

            "If we had met in different circumstances then I would probably have a different answer," Prowl finished washing his black and white frame from all the purged Energon. Jazz didn't respond to the words, remaining still in his curled position. Prowl glanced down at the mech to find him in recharge. He rolled his optics and turned off the solvent. He gathered the mech in his arms and carried him to the berth where he gently laid the mech on his berth.

            Before Prowl could react, Jazz smirked, his visor lighting up. He pulled Prowl down onto the berth over him and clutched at the guard to prevent him from moving off of him. His legs clumsily wrapped around the other's.

            "What!" Prowl cried and tried to move away but the drunken mech's small frame proved stronger than it looked.

            When Prowl tried to roll onto his side, Jazz followed and rolled over more, so he was on top of the guard. He wiggled atop the other mech and laid rather happily on the other as he pressed the full length of his frame against Prowl's. His helm ducking, his glossa slipped out from between his lips to lap at Prowl's neck again.

            "What do you think you are doing?" Prowl said as he looked to the other mech.

            "Licking your neck," mumbled the mech between laps. He glanced up at Prowl, his visor brightening, and he partially lunged forward to suckle on the other's chevron. Prowl jerked his helm back as he realized what the other mech was getting ready to do, earning a pout from the mech. Instead, Jazz's lips landed near the other's cheek. Not one to miss an opportunity, he shifted his target so he could kiss the Praxian full on his lips while his servos wandered.

            One servo stroked over Prowl's thigh while the other explored his side. The one on his side stroked up his chest before finding the panels that stuck out from the other's back. Curiously he pressed his palm flat against it and rubbed, wondering what reaction he'd get.

            Prowl arched off the berth, optics offlined as he moaned. "I hope you do not regret what you do when you are drunk, mech."

            "Yup." The Polyhexian giggled, rubbing at the panels more after he decided he liked that reaction. Sloppily he lifted himself so he was straddling the other's thighs, his other servo coming up to pet Prowl's stomach, drifting lower. Though his movements were a bit jerky, he still managed to have some semblance of skill with his touches.

            Prowl smirked a little, white digits trailing over the other's blue frame, the lavender lights caught his attention. The white digits started traveling to the highlights. The other mech shuddered, his body made sensitive by his own efforts to work up the Praxian, and lightly dragged the tip of his digits across Prowl's sensorwings. Prowl screamed out as the mech's digits travel along the sensors of his sensorwings, his field flaring at the pleasure.

            Jazz moaned, shuddering at the sudden torrent of pleasure that he felt from Prowl. Those wings of his must have been very sensitive. What if he did that to both? With a wobbly smirk of his own, the smaller mech's other servo drifted up his frame and ran its digits along the bottom edge of that pretty wing, curling up to the top to pinch the tip. "Sensitive..."

            The moment the other mech touched both of his wings, Prowl screamed as his frame jolted with overload coursing through every circuit in him. As the other's servos clamped over his frame, Jazz arched over the mech, trembling when the excess energy transferred to him. It ignited his circuits though it wasn't enough to make him overload.

            Whimpering, he removed one servo from the other to pet his own frame, particularly between his legs where the aching need in his frame centered. He thumped his helm down onto the other's chest and shifted his other servo to his purple audial fins. Immediately he cried out at the touch to the place, rubbing over it feverishly. When the charge failed to peak, he whined in hazy desperation, his silver visor darkening.

            "Need help?" Prowl asked, pulling the other mech's helm closer to his, glossa running over the other's lips. White servos slid over the other's sides and down to his hips.

            The dark blue mech moaned and parted his lips to flick his glossa against Prowl's. He wiggled at the touches to his hips and shakily nodded. His legs squirmed as he ground his pelvis against the other's. Removing themselves from his frame, Jazz's servos clutched at the guard's shoulders.

            "You have to tell me two things first," Prowl smirked, white digit leisurely traced along the other mech's hip, sometimes dipping into more sensitive areas.

            With a pitiful whine, the other mech tilted his helm and clutched harder at the Praxian. It was clear he didn't like how Prowl was denying him an overload.

            "Are you not going to ask what I want to know?" Prowl trailed light kisses along the smaller mech's neck and along his shoulder before he glanced back at him.

            Jazz's vocalizer spat static for a moment before clearing, "Wh-what is i-it?" With clear need, his leg hiked up Prowl's frame a bit, practically holding the other's hips.

            "First, I want to know the designation of the mech I am about to interface with and second," Prowl kissed the mech's lips, glossa gliding over the other's lip, "second I want to know your address."

            "Jazz, called Starlight." The answer was surprisingly lacking static or stumbles, with the first name being his actual designation and the second being his stage name. As for his address, he wasn't sure he could remember that. His processor scrambled to function, because if it didn't he wasn't going to get his need fulfilled and he really wanted to overload. "Ah, Grey Fount..." That wasn't his home so much as where he worked, but he couldn't remember his address. Maybe the enforcer would be smart enough to put it together?

            "That's not an address, Jazz," Prowl purred the mech's designation as he swiftly pinned the smaller mech to the berth. White digits trail along the smaller mech's sides before he climbed off the berth, a smirk graced his faceplates before shutting the berthroom door, the click of the lock came soon after it closed.

            Too stunned to do anything else, Jazz whimpered and shuddered as he realized that the guard had locked him in the room--and without giving his designation, either! He also could never bring himself to overload, no matter how much he tried. Oh, that stupid Praxian! Jazz's fist slammed down on the soft berth in desperate frustration as he whined. His legs rubbed together as he quivered, still staring at the door the Praxian had left from. Had the Praxian planned that all along? Had he just been planning on overpowering him once he was needy and desperate, and then leaving the room to let him fall asleep once he got used to the idea that he'd been abandoned?

            The lock on the door clicked again and Prowl walked in, but Jazz could only see his sensorwings and aft as the Praxian backed into the berthroom. The smell of sweetened Energon filled the room as Prowl turned to set the tray of dimly glowing Energon treats on the desk. He smiled at the blue mech before climbing back on the berth to press a hard kiss to the other's lips.

            "Did you think I left you?" Prowl smile got hidden in the other's neck as he kissed the smaller mech's neck. "I thought we might need a few treats once morning came."

            "Eh?" It was clear that the slightly smaller mech didn't know what to say, and his blush gave away that he had, in fact, thought something similar. After all, Prowl had been so adamant about not interfacing with him earlier that maybe he hadn't changed his mind and was just playing along until he could leave.

            He tossed that line of thought out the window as the Praxian sucked at his neck. Arching, he moaned and gripped at Prowl's sides, his desperation quickly growing again from the other's kisses.

            White servos slid around the smaller mech's waist, pulling him closer before the black and white mech pressed a kiss over the mech's sensory fins.

            The fins flicked at the touch and the mech mewled, "Primus." He loved when his fins were touched; it made him feel warm all over even when he wasn't aroused. His legs pressed up against the other's frame, and a servo drifted down to grab one of the white servos holding him.

            "Prowl, my designation is Prowl," Prowl said pressing a kiss to the smaller mech's collar.

            "I like it~" Jazz purred breathlessly. He tilted his helm up and nipped at the other's chevron. His panel slid back with a click, revealing his slick valve and pressurized spike.

            "Ready so quick? I like to take things slow." Prowl frowned a bit before he kissed down the blue mech's chest. He peppered kisses along the other's abdomen, slowly making his way down to the other's hips. Sensorwings flicked a little as he trailed his digits over the other's thighs, testing out the other mech's patience.

            "S-sorry," whimpered the other mech as he clutched at the berth under him, pushing his helm into the berth. His thighs were sensitive and he'd always like them being touched.

            Prowl's servos drifted to the other mech's knees, the soft caresses resulting in a squirming mech. When he tweaked a specific wire, Jazz positively twitched. The reaction perked up Prowl's curiosity and he plucked at the wire again, earning another twitch and a small flush of pleasure from the other's EM field. Lightly pinching the wire between his thumb and first digit, the Praxian tugged lightly and enjoyed the sight of the other's arched back. Breathy little gasps escaped the smaller, a bead of lubricant trickling out of his valve.

            Evidently the mech was quite ready to be taken, but if he were honest, Prowl felt like teasing him. One of his white servos moved up to the other's hips, giving a passing rub to the onlined spike, and his other servo moved even lower, to the other's pedes.

            Jazz pushed his hips up at the touch to his spike and whined at the too-soft touch, "Prowl!" He clearly wanted more.

            Holding back a chuckle, Prowl tweaked the other mech's pedes, earning yet another whine from the mech. The mech's servos clenched restlessly at the berth covers under his grip, his helm tossing from side to side in impatience.

            "Pl-please," breathily mewled the dark blue mech, arching as Prowl's servo wandered over his belly, "please~!"

            A few more minutes of Prowl listening to Jazz's adorable begging later, he finally quit his teasing. "Since you asked so nicely," he murmured as he crawled up the other's frame. Pressing light kisses along the bottom edge of the visor the other mech wore, he lightly rocked his hips against the other's activated array, earning a moan and a lick to his cheek. Under him, Jazz's legs spread and lifted to wrap around the Praxian's thighs. He smirked as the mech beneath him eagerly waited for him; being an Enforcer class mech gave him certain perks, one of which was complete control over his own frame. The sound of his panel clicking back caused the smaller mech to whimper quietly; his smirk stayed on his faceplates as nothing else happened. He waited for the other to respond to his last minute tease.

            Mewling in frustration, Jazz wiggled his hips and reached for the Praxians pelvis with one of his servos, groping around it, while his other servo lifted and grabbed a hold of a piece of the other's chest armor.   "Prowl~! Oh, do you even 'ave a spike?" his voice was most certainly slurred.

            "What would give you the idea I don't?" Prowl asked as his spike slowly pressurized.

            "Tease," mumbled Jazz as he eagerly felt the spike extending from its cage. He couldn't see it, but from what he felt of it so far, it was fairly big (as much as he could tell in his current state, at any rate). It had a bit of a flared tip and ribbing decorating its side, the latter of which Jazz distantly thought could have been raised biolights. Honestly he didn't really care and just wanted it inside him.

            Another whine escaped the smaller mech, and Prowl's smirk widened. This mech was very impatient, he distantly wondered if that was a normal or if it was due to the high-grade. Slowly he adjusted himself, propping himself up on his knees and gliding his servos down the other's frame to lift those pretty hips up to a nice height. He looked down and watched as Jazz's servo started drifting across his arm, at least what he could reach of it.

            One servo wrapped around Jazz's waist and the other went to support himself on the berth as he angled himself into the other mech. A moan escaped Prowl as he felt the other's wet heat envelope his spike. Jazz shuddered at the feel, his valve quivering at the delightful intrusion.

            The Praxian rocked into the other mech's valve, getting a feel for it while Jazz gasped and arched up. Already he could tell that the smaller wouldn't last long, considering how he'd teased him. Prowl thrust harder into the blue mech, leaning down to lick at the trembling audio fins so close.

            Jazz's arms wrapped around the Enforcer's waist, pulling at him. Small grunts escaped the larger mech and he nibbled around the other's helm. Surprisingly quickly, Jazz cried out in overload, his helm tossing from side to side a bit as charge flooded his body.

            The Praxian grunted as he thrust through the overload and soon started panting as he brought himself to his own release with a low growl. Trembling as he collapsed over the other mech, Prowl nuzzled into the other's malleable neck cables for a few moments as he recovered from his high. He realized with a soft sigh that his weight was probably close to crushing the slender mech below him, who was squirming slightly, and slowly pulled out of the other to plop himself down on the berth beside him without bothering to clean them both up.

* * *

 

            Prowl onlined when the sound of the main door unlocking reached his audios. He glanced over to the berth to see the blue form of the mech from the club. He frowned as the past dark cycle's memories caught up to him. He sat up on the berth, admiring the other's frame, the dark blue was like the sky and he just then noticed the mech's frame was covered in light sparkles that shimmered like the stars in the sky.

            The sound of pedes in the main room caught his attention and he carefully climbed off the berth to go to the berthroom door. The ping of the lock came before Prowl could unlock it and the door slid away to reveal Barricade. The other Enforcer's optics brightened as he looked into the berthroom and spotted the blue mech.

            "You actually brought him home?" Barricade smiled and walked into the berthroom.

            "It wasn't my intended goal," Prowl turned to watch Barricade walk over to the side of the berth Jazz was recharging on.

            "He's a cute little mech, isn't he?" Barricade said, claws barely a cable width from the mech's frame. The black and purple mech walked back over to Prowl, grabbed the black and white's chin, and pressed a hard kiss to the other Enforcer's lips. "So who do you like better him, or me?"

            "That's hardly a fair question," Prowl said, a frown coming to his face.

            "Leaving the evidence for me to find?" Barricade asked as he glanced down at Prowl's thighs. "Apparently he was a good frag if you couldn't bother with the clean up."

            "I . . . oh," Prowl glanced down, frame heating as Energon slightly flushed his faceplates.

            A soft groan interrupted them. The starry, dark blue mech's visor brightened slightly before it quickly shut off. He haltingly turned over so he could bury his face into the pillow underneath him. After a few moments, the mech peeked his helm out from the fluffy pillow to examine the room. His visor brightened when he caught sight of the plate of goodies on the desk, and he edged a servo out from underneath him to catch one of the sweets. What could only be called a moan of pleasure escaped him as he chewed before he resumed his looking around.

            Carefully he rolled onto his back and sat up, a servo distractedly lifting to rub his audios as he pondered where he was. The berth sheets pooled around his waist.

            His visor flared brightly in startlement and he jumped when he finally caught sight of the two mechs in the room with him, a slight panic filled his gaze. "A-Ah--wha'?" he squeaked and winced at even that little noise. His questioning gaze flicked between the two enforcers.

            "You're up," Prowl said, servos resting on Barricade's chest as he looked at the blue mech on the berth.

            "Did you have a restful recharge?" Barricade smirked, clawed servos resting on Prowl's hips.

            The mech opened his mouth to reply but quickly snapped it shut with an audible click. His helm tilted down and his servo drifted just under the blanket. He paled a bit and frowned, his fins flattening while he looked back up at the Praxian pair. Honestly, it was a peaceful recharge, but he didn't exactly feel rested, possibly due to the painful throbbing in his helm. "Ah'm not... sure?" he answered softly, trying to gather his bearings.

            "Do you need anything?" Prowl asked white servos dropping to his sides as he stepped away from Barricade.

            The mech's mouth opened immediately, as if he could think of several things he wanted, but all that came out was a quick, awkward, "No?"

            "After Energon we will escort you back to the club where you work," Prowl smiled and turned to Barricade. "Would you get us some Energon? We can take it out to the back porch."

            "C-can Ah clean mahself first?" tentatively asked Jazz before Barricade could leave the room. He was clearly nervous as he glanced between the two Praxians.

            "Of course," Prowl said and pointed to the washracks to the left of the berth, "you can clean in there."

            "Thank ya, sir," Jazz bowed his helm briefly in respect and pushed the berth covers the rest of the way off of him. He grimaced at the sight of his stained thighs, though at least he somehow still had his panel covering him, and slung his legs over the berth to the floor. "Now ta stand," mumbled the mech.

            "Do you require assistance?" Prowl asked as Barricade left the room to get the Energon.

            Jazz was silent for a moment before admitting with a nod, "Yeh, if ya don' mind. Mah legs feel like gelled energon." Scooting to the very edge of the berth, he peered up at Prowl, hardly able to meet the enforcer's optics.

            Prowl slid his arm under Jazz's and around the other mech's back. He helped the smaller mech into the washracks and turned on the solvent for the mech.

            "Thanks," Jazz said again with another nod. On wobbly legs he stepped out of the other's comforting arms and under the wash of solvent. His shoulders drooped as he let the solvent cascade over his frame, its warm torrent pattering at his frame. Deciding he shouldn't dally, the Polyhexian lifted his servos and started scrubbing at his frame, not bothering with asking for a cloth. Maybe the Praxian wouldn't mind providing him with one, though?

            "Do you require a rag?" Prowl asked watching the mech scrubbing at his frame, taking a rag out of his subspace he held it out to the blue mech.

            Glancing at the offered cloth, Jazz nodded and carefully took it. "Thank ya." He wet it under the spray and proceeded to rub at his waist. He vented a sigh and somewhat viciously scrubbed at the stains on his pelvis, as if he despised them and they were the bane of his existence. Moving onto his thighs, he had to bend over slightly to get them, probably giving the Praxian a rather nice view of his aft in the process.

            "Will you tell me where you live now? You weren't very informative last dark cycle."

            "Grey Fount is close to the Praxus-Polyhex border, yeh, jus' across? Ah live across da border, too, in Polyhex." The mech didn't look at Prowl as finished scrubbing at himself, his plating gleaming in the bright light of the washracks. His audio fins drooped. Everyone knew that the slums of Polyhex were just across that border.

            "I will escort you home. Barricade will escort you with me," Prowl nodded as he started cleaning his own frame. It only took a short time, fast and efficient like everything.

            The other mech's field filled with doubt before he could stop it, and he quickly retracted it. "Ya, ah, ya don' seem very... attached..." he said as he rubbed at his face for the stupid remark. His visor retracted so he could rub his optics wearily.

            "Attached? To what?" Prowl asked, glancing up at the blue mech and seeing the black optics, rare black optics. How did a mech have black optics? He noticed the white in the black, white in a mech's optics was a sign of stress and not getting the proper rest or additives in Energon.

            "Well, any other mech Ah've met would'a been more... touchy-feely, with meh. Ya jus' stood dere and watched like ya see it e'ery day." Jazz's voice was still low, and thick with his Polyhex accent. His servos lowered to clasp each other in front of his belly, nervously fidgeting with each other as he glanced away.

            "Then you shouldn't interface with an Enforcer." Prowl frowned and started to walk to where Barricade is waiting with their Energon.

            Jazz didn't say anything, but his field filled with suspicion as he followed the mech. A strangled sound left his throat as he stepped onto the back porch, his servos coming up to cover his optics from the early-morning light. "Oh, bright!"

            "It is called a star," Prowl frowned a bit before taking his Energon cube from Barricade and started to sit beside the black and purple mech. Barricade, on the other servo, had something else in mind and pulled Prowl to sit on his lap.

            "Ya ever 'ad a bad hangover and been exposed to bright light?" Jazz grumpily asked as he wandered over to sit across from the pair, where the energon that was apparently his rested. The silver glyphs on his dark face shimmered in the light, drawing the optic to them while he stared at his energon curiously.

            "Enforcers cannot get drunk," Prowl frowned and noticed the glowing glyphs. "You have glyphs under your optics? What do they mean?"

            "You couldn't read them when you were within kissing distance?" Barricade laughed and Prowl glared at the black and purple mech before punching him in the hip.

            "He had his visor down," Prowl turned back to Jazz and waited for the answer.

            Jazz's mouth opened to ask a question, before he looked away and drooped again. He traced under the words as he answered, "Starlight," meaning _designation,_ "dancer," having the modifiers _exotic_ and _skilled,_ "of," indicating _possession_ or _slave to/owned by,_ "Grey Fount," indicating the club and where to find it.

            "You're owned by a club?" Prowl said, engine growling. Barricade flinched at the black and white's field. "How can a club own a mech?"

            It was clear that Jazz didn't know quite what to say, but he made a valiant attempt anyway, "Th' owner of th' club owns meh; Ah 'ave to work fer him or risk losin' ma job dere and not bein' able to get anotha', since th' club has a certificate stating Ah'm theirs, if dat makes sense." He paused briefly, letting his visor click down over his white optics, "So, ah, why can't enforcers get drunk?"

            "Our tank filters out any harmful substances; it dilutes the high-grade," Prowl stated.

            Jazz scowled, "Tha's no fair." He picked up his cube and sipped at it, shuddering at the bland taste of energon without additives. "Ah, wha' are y'all's names?"

            "What do you remember from last dark cycle?" Prowl asked, obviously the mech should have remembered his designation.

            "Mah friends giggling around me, one givin' meh a shot of somethin'. No' much after tha', except maybe a scream?" Shaking his helm, Jazz shrugged in embarrassment, sipping at his energon a bit more though he didn't want any.

            "My designation is Prowl and this is Barricade, my partner," Prowl said.

            "Oh, um, Ah didn't intrude on anythin', did Ah?" Jazz glanced between the two of them meaningfully.

            "Intrude on anything?" Prowl frowned and glanced at Barricade before he looked back at Jazz.

            "Well, ya two seem... close..." If judging by how Barricade had pulled Prowl onto his lap and Prowl stayed, yes, they seemed close. Jazz tugged at an audio fin, a habit he had when he got nervous. "And Ah jus' wondered if Ah intruded on y'all's relationship...?"

            "Oh, no, you didn't.”

            "No, you didn't, but if you ever want to come back--a little less drunk, maybe--we wouldn't mind. Would we, Prowler?" Barricade asked, rubbing the mech's sensorwings.

            Ducking his helm, Jazz flushed at the offer, "Ah, Ah'll keep tha' in mind, though Ah suppose Ah should be gettin' home now. Prowl, would ya mind leadin' meh ta th' front?" He stood from his chair, still holding the energon cube that he'd drank.

            "We were escorting you home," Prowl said and led Jazz to the door, Barricade walked out of their house behind them.

            "Ya don' 'ave to, really," said the smallest mech nonchalantly, "Ah'm sure Ah c'n get home by mahself." Provided he could make his way to the border. For all that Polyhex was a maze of twists and turns and dead ends, Jazz found Praxus's streets even more confusing.

            "I insist, you are under my protection until I see you home," Prowl placed a servo on Jazz's shoulder.

            "Where exactly do you live?" Barricade asked as he followed them through the streets of Praxus towards the border, the wall loomed farther ahead.

            "In a Polyhexian apartment building, beyond the wall," Jazz answered with a soft sigh, grateful for Prowl's touch but not wanting to hear Barricade's response. It was sure to be rather negative.

            "Oh," Barricade quietly said, sensorwings drooping a bit. He quietly whispered to Prowl, "did you know he's a gutters mech?"

            Jazz's audio fins twitched back, catching the violet Enforcer's words. He held back a frown at the judgment he heard there. That was why he never revealed his address to anybody; they always made judgments about him before they got to know him. Just because he lived in the slums didn't mean he was any different than those who lived in better-off places. A tear dripped from his optic, which he quickly wiped away as he quickened his pace.

            Prowl growled and turned in a split second to punch Barricade in the abdomen before resuming his walk with Jazz. He slid his servo along the smaller mech's back and glared over his shoulder at Barricade.

            With a soft whimper, Jazz glanced up at Prowl as he wondered why the black and white Praxian seemed so protective of him. "Thanks," he murmured very softly as he lifted a servo to cover Prowl's. He admitted that he liked being touched, was used to it and even craved it. It meant a lot to him when someone defended him.

            Prowl pressed a kiss to Jazz's helm and pulled the mech closer to him. "My coding has taken an interest in you."

            "Oh," squeaked Jazz as he settled his servos on the other's shoulders, as if not sure whether to wrap around them or push him away, "Ah hope it's a good kind of interest, then."

            "That purely depends on your actions," Prowl said.

            What did that mean, wondered Jazz? "Heh. Is tha' why ya reacted so strongly abou' mah bein' owned by Grey Fount?"

            "In Praxus no mech should be owned or in debt to repay with their frame or life or freedom," Prowl stated, trailing a white digit along Jazz's hip.

            Jazz smiled at both the words and the actions. "Thanks," he giggled suddenly, feeling like he'd said "thank you" more often today than on any other day, "though tha's how Polyhex is run, an' Grey Fount _is_ a Polyhexian joint." He traced a lavender digit over Prowl's collarstrut, admiring the protective armor there.

            "Is there no way to gain your freedom back?" Prowl asked, bringing up a servo to lightly touch the other mech's cheek.

            Jazz hummed at the touch, tilting into it with frightening ease, "Whoever owns mah job certificate owns mah ability ta work an' where Ah can work, an' sometimes Polyhexians hafta give it up to where they want ta work. Originally the government of Polyhex owns th' certificate. Ah'd have tah own it mahself to be free. It can be bought or sold to another mech or a business."

            "Exactly how does someone have a job certificate that needs to be a contract which places one under slavery?" Prowl asked, "Does every mech have such a contract?"

            "All in Polyhex, though the one's who commit severe crimes 'ave theirs taken away," Jazz shrugged, not being bothered by the contracts. "Often, mecha or businesses are content to simply acknowledge tha' one has a certificate, and let the owner keep it while a mech works under someone else... if that makes sense." The Polyhexian winced at his garbled explanation, not sure it made sense. Plus, his headache was returning.

            "Differences in culture, I guess," Prowl glanced back at Barricade who was still following them.

            "Yeh," agreed Jazz while he pulled himself away from Prowl's embrace, wanting to get home now that he'd remembered about Barricade, "though Ah admit Ah'd like to own mah certificate. Ah've had mah optic on a different club fer a while." Giving Barricade a wary optic behind his visor, he said to Prowl, "Oh, before we cross th' border, could Ah stop at a shop nearby?"

            "Of course," Prowl nodded.

            "Thanks." Jazz smiled slightly and turned off to a side street after a few moments more of walking. He ducked into a little shop there and quickly came out with a bundle of plain cloth folded in his servos.

            "May I ask what the cloth is for?" Prowl asked, arm sliding back around the smaller mech's waist.

            Jazz shook the cloth out, presenting it to Prowl to reveal a mottled gray cloak, one that would completely cover his frame from view. "Ah wear a cloak whenever a leave mah apartment, though Ah lost mah last one. Mah pretty, unique platin' makes meh a target for petty criminals to try ta threaten meh."

            "Or possibly seduce Enforcers?" Prowl smirked as they neared the wall, two Praxian guards stand at the gate leading into the other city state, the two lane road serves as a toll to enter Praxus.

            "I'll just stay here," Barricade said standing with the guards. Prowl nodded and motioned for Jazz to lead him to the club.

            Jazz giggled at the other's remark and nodded, "Possibly." Smiling at the two guards, he stepped between them as he settled the cloak over his frame, lifting the hood to cover his helm and sticking his arms through the sleeves. Not even the tips of his digits stuck past the sleeves, and the bottom of it trailed lightly on the ground. "How do Ah look?" asked the Polyhexian dryly as he twirled for Prowl.

            "Hidden from prying optics," Prowl smiled, field pulling closer to his frame from an emotion he's not felt before, anger tipped with jealousy.

            "Jus' how Ah like it," Jazz purred slightly, his voice tinted with pain. He stepped closer to Prowl before he started walking, "Right this way; Ah 'ope ya don' get lost on ya way back out." He weaved them skillfully through the maze called the streets of Polyhex.

            "Enforcers have very well developed memory circuits, a fourth of our processors are devoted to it."

            The streets were in a clear state of disrepair as they traversed through them, the buildings cracking and groaning, some even rusting from age. Dead ends and narrow streets abounded.

            "Tha's... a lot," said Jazz after a few minutes. "Ya mus' never forget things, huh?"

            "It is a very lengthy and painful experience for an Enforcer," Prowl winced, "Only once I have had the need to forget something. The memory itself proved more painful than the extraction process; though I still retain the basic data about the incident, I have no emotional memories or first servo accounts of it. They are stored within a vault with any other memories extracted if one orn I choose to confront the pain."

            Jazz bit his lip, the only part of him visible under the hood and cloak, and he slowly said, "Forgive meh if this sounds ignorant, but tha' don't exactly sound healthy no' ta confront it..."

            "The fall of a city state you've lived in your whole function as a war raged all around would prove hard for anyone to handle. Especially on those who were in the Praxian army. Especially the one who voted that the Praxians fight for their city state and that vote led to its fall."

            "Ah," Jazz didn't know what to say. Really, what could one say to that? Also, he didn't have a clue as to what Prowl was talking about.

            "Oh, look, we're here!" he suddenly exclaimed, yet very quietly, as he pointed to a rather large building that seemed marginally more well-kept compared to the others in the area. Its sign, " _Grey Fount,_ " wasn't glowing, but it was still open for those rare customers who came during the daylight hours. "Would ya like ta come in?" asked the Polyhexian with a slight cringe in his tone.

            "If it wouldn't be an intrusion," Prowl smiled slightly at the smaller mech. It wouldn't hurt to see where the mech worked; it would also let his battle computer rest by having the actual data of the business rather than possible variables.

            "It's no problem," Jazz had just set his servo on the door to push it open when he paused. His visor lit up and he grinned and giggled, bouncing on his pedes a bit.

            "You seem cured of your hangover." Prowl smiled a bit as he followed the smaller mech into the club.

            "Oh, Primus, trust me that I'm not; I still have a bangin' headache, but I just imagined a friend of mine and you competing in a 'who can drink more highgrade' competition and it's so amusing."

            "Your friend will sorely lose," Prowl smiled and then frowned, "Is betting legal in Polyhex?"

            "Ah, yeah, along with gambling and most drugs," Jazz nodded. Distantly he wondered if Prowl would question his suddenly clear speech patterns but didn't pursue that line of thought as he put his cloak into his subspace, looking over himself after doing so. "Wow, you have some nice solvent in Praxus."

            "It's created with finely ground crystals to scrub away any dirt that accumulates," Prowl stated. "It is also Enforcer grade solvent. We must look professional and clean all the time."

            "Don't ever take a shower in Polyhex, then, unless it's at a noble's house," Jazz stated with amusement. "You'd live to regret it if you want to look clean all the time."

            "I will keep in mind if I ever come to bring my own solvent," Prowl nodded.

            "Oh, by the way, please don't call me Jazz here. Call me Starlight."

            Prowl was saved from responding by a call, "Starlight?"

            Jazz turned, a smile suddenly coating his face, "Blitzer?" He purposefully added the modification glyphs for _manager/owner_ to that.

            "Starlight, where have you been?" The mech, a little taller than Prowl, asked sternly, though not unkindly. Wordlessly Jazz pointed to Prowl. Blitzer quirked an optic ridge, before he smiled in a particular charming way intended to make mecha feel at ease, "A Praxian enforcer? Is Starlight in any trouble, sir?"

            "Not at all, I was just escorting him home from his travels," Prowl tipped his helm down to the mech. It was a typical greeting in Praxus and hopefully not an insulting one here.

            "Oh, thank you." Blitzer held out his servo for the other to shake, "It's always nice to meet a Praxian, especially so if nobody's in trouble." A slight smirk covered his face.

            "Could I ask a word in private," Prowl asked, servo clasped over the other's in the shake. Smile on the Praxian's face, sensorwings held in a neutral curious stance, field tingled with hope the other would accept.

            "Of course, anything for one who ensured my best dancer came back safely." Blitzer led Prowl back to the room he came out of.

            "I have an offer to make you, one that would possibly help your establishment here," Prowl stated, keeping his field laced with comforting hope; it worked on the distressed mech after the fall of Praxus so long ago, perhaps it could work here. "I know a dancer is hard to come by, as well as the credits to keep such a club open. Would you possibly allow a mech of my standing to purchase Starlight's contract from you? It would not be immediately, though if you do accept my offer I will check in on him from time to time and I would be paying in credits, not credit transfers. You would have the sum of credits in your servo when I decide to finalize the purchase."

            Blitzer stared at the Praxian who wanted his best and most beautiful dancer as if he couldn't decide whether the offer was tempting or ludicrous. Having that amount of credits in his servo certainly appealed to his more greedy side and the side that cared for his club. However, he would lose his best dancer and the profit that Starlight raked in. Starlight kept the other employees relatively happy. On occasion, Blitzer enjoyed private dances from Starlight. The Praxian sounded rather confident and persuasive, which was also a plus. He looked at the Praxian, obviously the mech had the credits to keep his own armor spotless, no doubt that Starlight would be well looked after. He looked up in the other's golden optics before coming to his decision.


End file.
